meant

He made himself impossible to talk to.  She knew there was no point in asking so she didn't.  He shot down any opportunity she tried to talk to him.  She couldn't wait any longer she made the call to her reliable friend.  "Hey can you pick me up"?  He over heard the phone conversation.  He positioned himself out of view and glared at her.  He started a meaningless conversation with the cashier.  Talked like they were old friends.  She walked outside to the dark sidewalk and waited.  He deepened his contacts with the company gals.  Which seemed to be his intent all along.  Piquing their interest would give him an advantage in the long run.  He didn't realize the count down had begun and soon the game board would change.  What he thought was a moral high ground would soon become indistinguishable when overlaid with other plains of existence.  She knew from the dream world the playful bear would get hungry.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Thursday?

Was that an invite.  The reality her mind was being pulled into left her confused.  Did he say Thursday?  It was getting worse for her the closer she moved toward that destination.  She would be further into the forest.  More trees and those unknown sounds.  She would be alone.  What type of maniac would expect a woman to go there alone.  She felt it like the tide.  A pulse.  The constant rhythmic push and pull.  This type of offering makes the explanation sound idiotic, purely insane.  Why did you go there?  What were you thinking?  It made such beautiful sense at the time.  Her mind was playing tricks on her.  The sense of fear, a gauge for delusions like this.  Why did he need her to be far from home?  The place she felt safe.  This would ultimately become the choice because it was too frightening.  Her mind would focus on defending her, a concept never mentioned.  Without him filling in details her mind had to resolve the dilemma.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Describe your personality in one word : sandpaper

Here it is the end of February.  I'm still unemployed.  Today I have an appointment at the unemployment office.  I'm hoping it will be a sadistic encounter.  I don't know what point in time I realized I love to be be abused, and degraded.  It has become my life in many beautifully fascinating ways.  The flush of embarrassment.  The warmth takes over your body.  Those comforting warm sensations in front of everyone. They stare in wonder.  Knowing in that moment in that group I'm not being envied or despised.  I'm alone in a group of humans.  It is a fantastic feeling.  So I'll be at my required meeting hoping there is still some sort of job in the State of California for a quirky 50+ white woman with a robust sense of humor. 


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Haunted

Decisions that haunt a lifetime. All the strange unsaid happenings.  They were beginning to multiply.  Why now what was the cause of the increase.  She was used to being pulled into directions without having questions answered. This was different. Fear sat down to watch. It began to last longer.  The words found their way within a thought. Like a trance was this time shaped moment becoming real?


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Now

The night called me to come outside.  It always nice to get an unexpected visit such as this.  I put on my jacket and the slip on shoes I leave by the door.  Outside the half moon is bright.  The air is thin and delicate. It felt fragile like thin porcelain.  It's the type of air that carries sounds and smells great distances.  Metal becomes obedient In this type of cold.  I walked out to the fence that lines the road.  I could smell wood smoke.   It was a sweet smell burning at a perfect temperature.  The night was too excited to sleep.  The lonely bond that has been created seeing without being able to touch.  The excitement being created with the changes.  The day would soon arrive.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

My path has led me to the great hallway of life. All the closed doors. People I talk with seem to be having conversations with someone else in the room. Like I'm invisible not being included into the plan.  I'm bored with it I can't even motivate myself to be cynical.  I went hiking yesterday saw penis art painted along the trail.  The wild man and his penis.  The world of pretense is the ultimate boner killer.  The lost tribe of penis has welcomed new members. The modern world is on a penis seek and destroy mission.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Why Does Everything Seem So Surreal After Brain Injury?

https://www.brainline.org/author/emilie-godwin/qa/why-does-everything-seem-so-surreal-after-brain-injury

From the article:

Some people with brain injury may also experience what doctors refer to as depersonalization (DP) and/or derealization (DR). Depersonalization describes the experience of feeling like you are removed from yourself or as if you are in a dream. Derealization is the sensation that the world around you is unreal or is profoundly and grotesquely changed. Often, DP and DR occur at the same time. The majority of people who note frequent bouts with DP/DR have experienced some type of significant trauma. DP/DR can also occur as a result of injuries or illnesses which impact neurological functioning. Although there is still much to learn with respect to why some people experience DP/DR following a traumatic brain injury, the experience may be more common than was previously thought. In fact, in one study, as many as half of the patients with TBI reported experiencing at least occasional instances of DP/DR¹,². It appears that people with TBI may be more likely to experience DP/DR when they also meet the criteria for a diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Simpson Park Hemet California

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The Job Fair

Going to a job fair today.  I'm going to have a funnel cake.  Ride on the spinning rides. See the baby animals.  In reality I get to pass out my circus freak resume and my disjointed work history.  A 50+ under achiever with a computer addiction.  I have big dreams in my basket that get stolen over and over is what my cover letter explains.  I have great coping skills that I'd love to market.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Diagnosed underachiever

My husband was outside posting the America flag  because it was Presidents Day.  While he's out front an employee from my former employer drivers by in the company car.  He turns the car around.  Pulls up to my gate and asks "Did she find a job yet"?  My husband told him no.

Okay I let it slide when they said they didn't owe me an explanation on why I was being let go. I let it slide when they continued to call my phone.  Now they are driving by my house.  I live on a dirt road that dead ends.

Maybe this is some strange fetish where a company lays people off and then torments them while they collect unemployment.  The first item on the agenda at the company board meeting.  How much anguish did we create?
Company President: "Who has the follow up reports on the newly layed off"?
Employee: "We've made several taunting phone calls, text messages, one ominous email and a drive by.  They appear to be living like the Who's in Whoville.  Carrying on their traditions like we don't matter".
Company President: "I can't masturbate to this, somebody bring me a bottle of customer tears, make sure it's room temperature".

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Martyr Insurance

Sign up and you are guaranteed to die a martyr.  You can live your life worry free.  No one should have to worry about, food, clothing , shelter, education , medical care.  So why should you.  Now you can include dying a Martyr on to that list.  You can also have a shrine built in your honor. 
Travel, don't lock your doors, walk through dark alleyways, sleep under tall bridges,  drive an unreliable car on long stretches of desolate road.  Ask for directions in unfamiliar neighborhoods. Work the night shift at a convenience store gas station.  Drive fast and erratic through police check points.  Scratch that itch at your waistband while police are yelling "show me your hands"
It's all covered sign up today.  Retroactive coverage available.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Right there

She lived like a creature completing the chaos.  Not to be understood but to understand.  It didn't make sense. To include all of what is seen, heard.  Disconnected, separate.  The space between held possibility.  To create it was meant for that.  To make it happen seemed like cheating.  To show it was possible was the highest purpose.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The field plowed years ago.  Like a clean slate, a new beginning.  This was the place of constant change.  Nothing old lasted it wasn't supposed to.  An Oak tree made thick dark shade.  A lovely place to rest.  In the open field the sun coaxed the seeds to split open and find their purpose.  Locked inside buried.  The growth in both directions. Upwards and downwards.  Whatever the seed would become was quick and temporary.  The growing season would  turn under what was left of the plant.  The tradition was the constant change.  Not a place for long term plans. The growth quick and temporary.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Crown

Some people enjoy hurting people.  Some people enjoy killing people.  Pain and or death as a goal.  How sadistic or psychopathic a person, chooses to be, could be measured.  But usually isn't discussed unless they act on it and are caught.  How comfortable they become with those type of feelings inflicting pain or causing death can be studied.  Each person has a limit to what amount of tension is needed for their breaking point.  Breaking point as in overwhelmed and unable to cope.  A person who goes on a murderous rampage or becomes a calculated killer moves out of a human conscience level and is dealing within a realm that is as real as the world we live in.  It has a different set of rules, punishments, and rewards.  Stories of people encounters.  Stories brought into our world under the influence of this realm.  Being invited into that realm is complex but simple.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Deliberate

He wanted to trip her just to see her fall. It worked. The knee she fell on tore the fabric and her skin. He offered no assistance. She now had a brand new pair of pants that needed mending. Her knee would scab and eventually scar. The healing process would be a reminder of what happened. She noticed the look on his face right after she stood up. He was pleased. She knew he did it on purpose. There was nothing she could do about that. It would seem to be her lot in life. Now that he made her aware of his tendencies he was going to raise the stakes. Each time his game would become more dangerous. As time went on she learned he grew up in an environment of criminals. He was used to playing games to create tension. Everything was a power play. She was being initiated. He was intrigued by her straightforward manner. His games focused on undermining her confidence. If she defended herself he would become more devious. If she didn't react he become more obvious. His warped fantasies always involved humiliation.  Her warped fantasies always involved being a willing victim.  Nothing syrupy just spontaneous and vicious.  Each mastering their awareness tuned up.  The final score didn't matter. He was looking for life in her that wasn't there. Her heart was dead long before she ever met him.  For him there was a second chance far away from her.

She saw him, he was no stranger, on the cemented path next to the railroad tracks. Nice hair she thought.  She knew it was the devil when he turned his head and smiled at her.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

If we're playing pictionary can I get better clues?

Pewter Age Goat herders?  

Glass, animal skin pillows? 

Let me guess THC inspired home decor.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

"He was weird"

TV reporter - Did you know the shooter?
Teenage public school student - He was weird.
TV reporter - What did your teachers do?  Did any adult on campus intervene years or months prior?
Teenage public school student - He was weird.
TV reporter- Did anyone try and utilize any type of out reach for this guy to help him feel less ostracized?
Teenage public school student - He was weird.
TV reporter - There you have it being weird makes you non human.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Making the fifth wound

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Paying for the alibi

The debt is never paid.  She sold him the cigarettes proof he was there. The camera time stamped the transaction.  He would of rather died himself if he didn't think he could win.  He chose not to try. What was he guarding.  He couldn't handle the power.  He was just a nice guy.  He bowed his head to amatuerishly acknowledge the overfed buffoon.  He ran the company like a toad.  Zapping incests on the fly with his sticky tongue.  His voice changed to the croaking accent.  It was a dry year made sense for him to take over.   His bumpy skin covered by expensive silk shirts.  He plopped around full of flab.  The bright stripes lined up at the seams perfectly. His face was lovely, adorable you could say.  A momma's boy.  He did what he was told, obviously, ate all the food on his plate. How to get him to see his lack of confidence kept the toad covered in silk.  A pile of crap guaranteed flies.  Whatever he was hiding blinded him.  One less warrior this battle would be lost.  Nothing to fight for.  The victory certainly doomed by lack of courage.  To speculate tragedy became a fashion statement.  What rhythms with boring?


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Truth the forbidden fruit of Atheism

Tomatoes?  When I buy tomatoes in a see through glass container I have a high expectation. Compared to the type I purchase without a peek.  Canned and covered is where the blemished tomatoes end up.  They now call them petite diced. Like they're gourmet tomatoes. Why haven't consumers expected them to have been petite diced all along.  This ultra secret version of tomatoes has finally arrived to the peasantry.  I can hear the tap water filled glasses toasting over the petite diced tomato cans.  Whatever the label reads that's what you have to work with.  How come I'm up against this militaristic type mindset dealing with these people talking about being fair and reasonable. I'm not able to study canned tomatoes to make a reasonable choice.  I get a picture of what a batch of tomatoes looked like 10 months ago.  More than likely the image was edited before the label purchase order was printed.  You can tell me I not being reasonable.  I'm judgmental and not a risk taker.  All things considered humans suspend massive amounts of judgment throughout the day.   It used to be a tradition long before Atheism was invented. People didn't use Oregano during lent, from ash Wednesday until Easter Sunday.  You won't hear it mentioned because those type of people have passed on.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Conversation stopper

A glass of milk a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a paper plate. He wasn't accustomed to this type of rustic meal. Whatever potential inconvenience his life posed it was quickly resolved without him having to dwell on anything real outside the influence of the family fortune. Anything he needed a favor anywhere on the globe. He was connected through diligence, that was what the family called it. The family was a bought and paid for disconnected group, in the way people push a shopping cart through a store aisle and make selections. He had no intention of consuming what sat before him. He looked down on this city. The huddled, the unwashed creatures breathing their germs in this shared space. He was refined enough to act the part of being relaxed. Acting lessons the essential weapon. The value in this city increased his bank account. Created out of a need for an annual write off.  Not looking for solutions, but creating desperation to guarantee future income.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The Devil in the details

"I'm going to be dead before you get around to planning a date".  The talking device in her hand felt like a childish toy.  "It's ridiculous, having to use this silly thing".  "You've been pulling on my heart strings for what seems like ten lifetimes.  Was this what you wanted an anti-climatic affair"?  Cobwebs in the ballroom and a tattered faded streamer.  Attached to the rafter higher than a kite string.  "Must have been some party, through two centuries.  Aren't you supposed to be the fun brother?"  He put his cloven hoof next to the pillar and scratched at the marble. Scuffing at the accumulated soot.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

bike ride

Along a secluded stretch of the beautifully landscaped bike path.  He waited.  She rode up noticing he wasn't dressed to exercise.  She felt afraid.  He stood on the path facing her.   She stood and peddled in case he tried to prevent her from passing. Where he was standing, the trail curved.  He could monitor who was approaching in both directions simultaneously.  She shouldn't be here alone.  She didn't want to feel frightened but she did.  Later that day she recalled it being the man from the college who asked her about typing.  Her understanding of being stalked like prey wasn't able to manifest.  She felt like a nuisance. An insignificant human.  Someone focusing time and effort onto her wasn't something she was accustom to.  That fear of being alone in that moment with that man. Was from a different sense then her place in the world.  Her place throughout time.  Her ability to defend her life.   It is a stress the modern world tries to subdue.  The illusion of equality.  The mastery of the ego.  The primitive pecking order.  The well being of all.  The sense of self each individual brings along inside their daily journey.  The events that lead up to a violent encounter. The breaking point where civility ends.  Primitive actions don't mean violence but how to know what switches the mind from one to the other varies inside people.  An outdoor setting verses a library. Behavior constraints and socially established mannerisms.  Nothing guarantees current stable human interaction.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The difference

Things that were and things that weren't.  The sights and sounds.  The worries.  The thoughtful wishes.  The motion.  The mirrored door.  With years added up, back then should seem different. For things to be different things should have changed.



It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

"Are you in a hurry"? He spoke loud enough to catch her attention as she walked past him. She turned and looked at him. "I like your outfit it looks nice". Of course she stopped to talk to him he was being honest. She was aware of deception, knew it was easily masked in flattery but today she needed to hear a nice person talk to her. Whether or not he honestly needed help didn't matter. He explained he needed someone who could type a few pages. Her typing was messy and she didn't have access to a typewriter. He told her she could use the machines available in the computer lab and he would be patient with her typing skills. Somehow the conversation turned into his time spent in the military. She had checked out of the conversation over her low self esteem. She fixated on her bad typing. What for her began as a potentially uplifting encounter. Became her own private internalized discussion. This one began and ended with you just aren't good enough. If he was looking for a victim, there she was, a perfect victim. She didn't notice after saying bye, he followed her 21st a distance to her house.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Kneeling to wipe the sweat and blood from his temple. Horribly beaten he was making an attempt to stand. A body inundated by abuse willing to rise. Not concerned with a back story or who to blame. She wanted to see his human face. To wipe away the anonymity the blood created. Glistening but not reflective enough to mirror ones own image. The human suffering nourished where lust left one empty. The abuse fulfilled unbound greed. The blood trapped under the skin purple like the robe of a king. A hail of jeers, and humorous bile. Eyes glancing the crowd watching a celebration of freedom.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Telling the wind I surrender

He thought he killed her. Her lifeless body was dead long before the knife severed her artery. She existed. He couldn't kill what was not alive. The child she bore, one of many. Sustained by hatred. Her offspring fed on pith. In between those sweetened moments of charity. The human kindness coaxed by desperation. The beggars folly. The branches that fruit. The branches that wither. The turn of events satisfying the eternal unknown. The temporary blindness that occurs in initial darkness. In the beginning...


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

How to uncreate an evil deed

He wanted the chase. He wanted to terrorize women. He liked to create panic. He walked out the door behind her with heavy steps so she knew he was behind her. Her pace quickened in response. He gained a sense of control no matter how brief. He played on the emotions of any woman. He knew it was easy to establish a vantage point. He hadn't acknowledged the sadistic person he was. He was not able to fully act out his fantasy. Which left him frustrated. He buried himself in a routine of eat, sleep, work. How to uncreate an evil deed using coping skills, rather than forensics. That area of the human psyche gets daily use and seldom acknowledgements. Over time as the social landscape changes adapting can become tricky. The level of stress it takes to push beyond primitive human instinct. The dangerous place being within arms reach of a fellow human rarely needs to be considered. The sixth sense is how humans communicate with like minds. It's not difficult to distinguish stress amongst humans. A false sense of hope can suffice like holding your breath underwater can keep your lungs dry.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Profound moments

Tuesday put me in a frame of mind that created nausea.  Like spinning on a merry-go-round as a child.  The change of perception caused through self induced disorientation.  Also known as a weird feeling.  It could also be described as dread.  Perhaps it is being so grounded I could sense the spin of the earth.  I was tuned in and connected.  That mental scar that makes me numb.  A woman approached me in a parking lot.  She told me she had just gotten out of the hospital.  She explained her food stamps ran out.  I stopped her and said you are 3 blocks from the county office.  She said my ribs are broken.  I thought of Eve.  I wanted to tell her no your ribs aren't broken. It was Adam's rib that was broken off to create us.  I start thinking about my healed wounds, my needs, my wants.  I got to my car and said "God help me".  I could see in how many instances I have reasons to be thankful.  I continued on with my day.  In an odd series of events.  I ended up at the college MSJC.  I had offered a person a ride to class.  MSJC is where I met my cherished friend in a music class.  We had to come to Hemet to meet each other.  The friend I needed as a child.  I met as an adult.

My mind is flooded with memories.  I've written and deleted so many things in this post.  Not sure what to do with this information.  I want to write in a way that makes it useful.  Honest but not confused or angry.



It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Feeling like a cosmic balancing act being whatever I'm needed to be.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Shared from an edited text

You are burdened by (that person's) mental state. It is psychological warfare. It is control on (their) part and shuts out any type of thankfulness or gratitude. Strange how it reminds me of the environment I was working in at my former job. Basically it is centered around: I need you but I can't let you know, because if I let you know you will be important and that can never happen. So I can't ever appreciate you because all these things are terrifying.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Unemployed= nonconsumer

Being unemployed means I'm no longer a consumer.  That is the basis or the foundation the unemployment industry is based upon.  I as an unemployed person descend the steps of desperation.  No longer do employers look at a resume to hire.  They look at how long you have been desperate.  They qualify new hires based on the lengthen of time you've been on unemployment.  What type of social services have been utilized.  The employer not only gets a fully scrutinized person they also received a monetary incentive to hire.  The new set of qualifications are financial gain.  The employer receives government funds by hiring a person who is using government aid.  At the same time employers new stance on performance and customer service changed.  Now employers take the position.  If the customer isn't satisfied by the performance of a given company it is the fault of the consumer for coming back and being abused.  The consumer should use the competitor instead of complain. Which means management is fully aware of their abysmal customer service.  They require it from their employees.  Costumers should get used to being abused and lied to or go somewhere else.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The magic mesh

Yesterday marked a month.  I've not had a job for a month. Thursday I got a call again from my former employer to assist a customer.  I told them I didn't work there any longer. Sent a message to the manager asking for my information to be removed.  I said I'd like to forget this and move on.

My jolt of reality helped me to realize a long list of items I haven't been accessing In my life.  I'm thankful.  I'm also learning that being unemployed is an industry.   This industry thrives on people being unemployed.

I'm seeing my path one step at a time.  I'm not being given many options currently which is for now good.

The neighborhood dogs are barking sporadically which is typical when the moon is bright.  I gave my dog a treat at the door.  I have the As Seen on T.V. mesh screen on my door.  My dog passed through with his treat.  The treat got tangled into the mesh.  It slid the treat our of his mouth and hung suspended.  My dog stopped and looked back. Saw it hanging there. He turned and faced it.  I couldn't help laughing.  I untangled it and he took it and went on his way.

It was a good demonstration of my current situation.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

taking a step back

Turmoil, hard times, life shaping moments. I'm allowed to write my story.




It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Massacre Canyon San Jacinto California

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Indubitably

"Stop being difficult.  If you'd just let him tickle you he gets his way and then leaves you alone.  You can go about your business".  He was trying to convince her she needed to play along.   Learn the ropes.  She knew no matter how precise she spoke he wasn't going to hear her.  His rules were for him.  There was another set of rules for her.  If she played along it was consent.  She had already tired and it turned into something unpleasant.  Her resistance was followed up by threats.  What did he care.  His position was solid.  He could remain disinterested.  If she spoke the truth she would be seen as hostile, bitter.  Her ideas were of no value.  He felt like a guardian telling her to play along.   Playing along was a man's approach.  Money was pulled from a pocket in a big roll. Just play along.  This is how we do things here. She walked out.  He had enough money and power to do whatever he pleased.  All the other girls were willing to bend to him.  She didn't know why she needed to.  He had desperate people at his disposal.  They would do whatever he asked.  Her fear of playing along blinded her to the looming danger of not participating.  Mental wellness having a sound mind.  In part included learning how to manage these situations.  Her mental state could withstand even if her physical body broke.  The situation filled all the roles it didn't require more players.  Outside again.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96